


Katniss Everdeen and the Half-Blood Baker

by mrsbonniemellark



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Triwizard Tournament, everlark at hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 06:10:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3239231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsbonniemellark/pseuds/mrsbonniemellark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss and Peeta are in their seventh year when Hogwarts hosts the Triwizard Tournament for the first time in over a century.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Katniss Everdeen and the Half-Blood Baker

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter was originally donated as part of Fandom4LLS's 2014 collection. This is a work of fanfiction. The world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling and the Hunger Games characters belong to Suzanne Collins. I have also incorporated many quotes from both series into the story. Rated M for future chapters.  
> Come follow me on tumblr! I'm mrsbonniemellark there too!

“Katniss! Peeta’s here!” Prim yells up the stairs. Prim, my thirteen-year-old sister, is entering her third year at Hogwarts this year, while Peeta and I are entering our seventh year.

“Tell him to come on up!” I yell back through the open door. I turn back to my open—and not yet full—trunk, and try to remember what I still haven’t packed yet.

“You’re not done packing yet?” Peeta asks incredulously, coming into the room I share with Prim and sitting down on my bed next to my trunk. Just the sight of him sends now-familiar warmth through me, and though I try to act like nothing’s happening, I can see myself blushing in my closet-door mirror. We’ve been friends since our first year at Hogwarts, but I can’t help but notice how different I’ve been feeling around him the last couple years.

“No! I overslept!” I say, the panic coming through in my voice. “And this year’s list has ‘dress robes’ on it, and I can’t decide which of my mother’s old dresses I want to borrow. What do we even need dress robes for?”

“I don’t know. Have you had breakfast yet? I brought cheese buns,” he says, handing me a paper bag with Mellark’s Bakery on it. I snatch the bag from him, open it, and breathe in the delicious aroma of my favorite pastry. I take one out of the bag, putting the rest on top of my nightstand, and bite into it. As the cheese fills my mouth, a moan escapes me and Peeta laughs, deepening my blush.

“Help me decide which dress to bring,” I tell him. “This blue one,” I say, holding up a light blue dress with short sleeves and a sash at the waist. “Or this one,” I hold up a red, mermaid-style dress with one-shoulder.

“Um…the red one,” Peeta says. He’s blushing now too and staring intently at the contents of my trunk, at my pile of bras and underwear.

I hurriedly pack the red dress in my trunk, covering the offending garments. I throw the remainder of my school books in my trunk, along with my toiletries, and after a quick scan of my room and bathroom, finally shut and lock my trunk.

“Ok,” I say. “Let’s go.”

“Finally,” Peeta says, smirking. Despite the fact that my lateness is going to make us rush to catch the train, he doesn’t seem to mind. I move to pick up my trunk, but Peeta takes out his wand and says, “ _Locomotor trunk_!” I’ve been seventeen for a few months now, but my first-instinct is always to do things the muggle way at home.

Peeta directs the trunk down the stairs, through the front door, and into the open trunk of the car, where my mom is loading Prim’s trunk. I magically expanded the trunk earlier in the summer, so after a bit of arranging, everything is ready to go.

“Prim, where’s Buttercup?” I ask. Buttercup, Prim’s squashed-faced, yellow cat, is nowhere in sight. Buttercup is the only pet in our family, despite the fact that an owl would certainly be more useful, and we are allowed to have one pet at school. But Prim fell in love with Buttercup, who was injured when we found him and she nursed him back to health with her healer’s touch, and he’s been her cat ever since.

“He’s still inside. I’ll go get him,” she says, and hurries back inside. Peeta and I get settled in the back seat as we wait, and Mom starts the car. I marvel at the leg room we have back here, as we’ve always been rather squished in the back with our trunks in previous years. Prim returns a few minutes later with a rather unhappy Buttercup in his cat-carrier, and we’re finally able to leave.

The journey to Kings Cross is a long one, and despite my efforts to stay awake, I end up dozing off on Peeta’s shoulder. When we arrive, we have to hurry across the station with our trunks, to the barrier between platforms nine and ten, which we walk through one at a time in an effort to be inconspicuous, and then finally we see the familiar scarlet steam engine, the Hogwarts Express, on platform nine and three-quarters.

There are just a few minutes left, so Peeta and I try to find an empty compartment in which to deposit our trunks, and Prim hurries off to find the compartment her friends are in. We see Madge—our friend and fellow seventh year Gryffindor—alone in a compartment, and after her assurance that we can join her, we leave our trunks and hop back onto the platform to say goodbye to Mom.

We all thank Mom for driving us to the station, and she hugs us all in turns, telling us she loves us and to be safe. We promise to write every week, and she hugs us all a second time, whispering something I don’t catch in Peeta’s ear, and then the whistle blows and we hurry back onto the train.

Peeta promises he’ll find me later and hurries off to the prefects’ carriage to fulfill his new Head Boy duties. I rejoin Madge in our compartment, closing the door, but leaving the blinds open so Prim can find us later if she wants. I sit down in my usual seat by the window, across from Madge. She looks rather absorbed in the book she brought with her, so I leave her alone. I wish Peeta were here. It hits me that this is our last train to Hogwarts.

It was on our first train to Hogwarts that Peeta and I became friends. I was sitting by the window, alone in my compartment, worrying about how Prim was going to handle being alone with our mother. She was only seven and I didn’t know whether our mother could adequately take care of her since she had shut down after our father’s death. I vowed to send a letter with one of the school owls the first moment I could, and at least twice a week after that. I was lost in thought, staring out the window at the families waving last-minute goodbyes, as someone opened the door to my compartment.

“Do you mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full,” a voice said. I turned my head and saw a boy I recognized from school, though I couldn’t remember his name. His blond hair and blue eyes were as unforgettable then as they are now.

“No, go ahead,” I said, and went back to staring out the window.

We sat in silence for some time, and when it was time for lunch, Peeta took out his lunch that included a huge sandwich with cold chicken, some cheese buns, carrots, and sugar cookies in a brown paper bag that said Mellark’s Bakery. I didn’t have a lunch. There had been so little food in our house after my father’s death, and I didn’t want to take any of it for myself when I knew that I would get to eat at Hogwarts’s start-of-term feast that night. I was sure I could hold out until then.

“Do you want some of my lunch?” Peeta asked, noticing that I didn’t have one.

“No, thank you. I’m fine,” I said, but my stomach growled, betraying me. Peeta laughed.

“Are you sure? I’ve got enough for two here,” he said. And while it wasn’t exactly true, since he was a growing boy, it did look like he had enough to share with me, and he seemed so genuine and sweet with his offer, I said yes, and he motioned for me to sit next to him in order to better share his lunch.

And while we ate, we talked. I learned that his full name is Peeta Rye Mellark and that his dad is a muggle who owns and runs Mellark’s Bakery, which has been in the family for generations, and Peeta’s mom is a pureblood (I would later learn that she is also a squib). He’s a half-blood like me, as my mom is a muggle and my dad was a wizard. We also marveled at the fact that we had gone to school together for six years and never spoken.

“I thought everyone at our school was a muggle!” Peeta said.

“Me too!” I said. “I wish I’d known. We could’ve been friends.” And I meant it. It had been hard being the only magical student in our school other than Prim. I had never been good at making friends, and it had been hard being friends with people I was keeping such a huge secret from.

“Well, we can be friends now,” he said, and smiled at me sweetly.

Since the moment he offered to share his lunch with me, I felt almost instinctually that he was someone I could trust. And I trusted him to be my friend, my confidant in all things. When we were both sorted into Gryffindor, we were overjoyed. We sat next to each other in our classes, in the Great Hall at meals, and in the common room as we did our homework. There was an easiness in being around Peeta that I had never felt with anyone else. He provided me with the kind of comfort and safety I hadn’t felt with anyone but my parents.

Oh, Peeta…My feelings for Peeta these last few years are starting to worry me. I thought maybe they’d just go away, that it was just an attraction based off of proximity, but they only strengthened. It’d be easier if he weren’t so _good_. He’s a much better person than the rest of us.

Last night, these thoughts and others were weighing on my mind and kept me from sleep. I’m worried about getting more money for my family this year. The small amount I made at my usual summer job at a local retail store helped, but it wasn’t enough. Prim’s and my school books and other supplies for the year had been more than expected, which meant I had to double my efforts in my usual job of hunting for things I could sell at the Hog’s Head in the Forbidden Forest until I made up the missing money.

I’m also worried, for the first time really, about what’s going to happen next year. I won’t be at Hogwarts anymore. I told Professor Odair a couple years ago during Career Advice that I wanted to study dragons in Romania, but that had just been because I felt that I had to say _something_. I’d kept my options open in continuing my classes to the N.E.W.T. level, but this year was going to be the year that I had to decide what to do. The ministry hired people right after graduation, and if I decided to work there, which would make sense as I have the grades and they have the money, I would need to be one of the people they hired after graduation.

Peeta’s lucky because he doesn’t have to worry about what he’s going to do, just how he’s going to do it. He wants to open his own bakery in Diagon Alley. He doesn’t have the money to do that yet, but when he does, it’s going to be great.

Peeta joins us around lunchtime. He hands me half of his lunch as usual, and I accept it gratefully. He starts telling me and Madge a story about something that happened to him yesterday at the bakery when a disgruntled customer insisted that they’d asked for something different to be written on the cake they ordered.

Prim comes by a little later and updates us on her friends’ summers. Apparently her best friend Rue’s parents just sold their house and they have their eye on one just a town over from us.

“I’ll get to see her more during the summer now!” she exclaims. “Isn’t that great?” Peeta, Madge, and I assure her that it is, in fact, great. I know how much she misses Rue during the summer. It makes me appreciate the fact that Peeta lives only a couple miles away from us that much more.

Eventually, Peeta and I remember that we still need to change into our robes. Prim says she’ll see us at the feast and leaves our compartment. I shut the door behind her and close the blinds. When I turn around, I see Peeta grabbing his trunk from the overhead compartment. His shirt rides up and a few inches of his toned back are on display. My breathing quickens.

He looks at me and I startle, caught, but he just asks whether I’m going to change into my robes, too. My cheeks flame with embarrassment, and I distract myself by getting my own robes out of my trunk. While I have developed a method in which I can change my clothes without revealing skin (putting my skirt on over my jeans and then removing my jeans, and putting my robe on and then changing my shirt beneath it), Peeta has never cared much for modesty, and in seconds I am in a compartment with a shirtless Peeta. Thankfully, Madge is engrossed in her book again and not paying attention. I don’t let myself take more than a quick look, but I notice the way the blond hair on his body shines in the light, just like the hair on his head, and how toned his arms and stomach have gotten since I last saw them.

When we’re done changing, I notice the way we match as usual: me in the second-hand robes I bought from Madame Malkin, Peeta in hand-me-down robes from his older brothers, and both of us with Gryffindor ties. The resemblance ends there, as our hair and eyes are such different colors, but in this we are the same. We are Gryffindors.

* * *

 When I see the familiar sight of Hogwarts Castle through the window, my heart sighs in relief at returning to my second home. This place of wonder and magic is just as much my home as my family home, and I missed it.

It’s just starting to rain when we disembark into pitch-darkness at Hogsmeade Station. A big drop hits me on my cheek and I flinch, not expecting it. Peeta wipes it away with his thumb and I shiver. “Come on,” he says. “We should get into a carriage before it starts pouring.”

As we make our way to the carriages, we hear the familiar sound of Haymitch’s “First years! Over here!” He always sobers up long enough to take the first year students across the lake before promptly getting drunk at the feast.

“Hey, Haymitch!” Peeta yells over the crowd to him. Haymitch waves at us grumpily and doesn’t return the greeting. Haymitch is the groundskeeper at Hogwarts and the Care of Magical Creatures professor. He has taken a special liking to me and Peeta over the years and we often visit him at his cabin on the grounds.

The rain is already coming down harder by the time Peeta helps me into a carriage outside the station. I don’t envy the first years who have to cross the lake in this weather. Peeta, Madge, and Delly—another fellow seventh year Gryffindor—climb in after me, and our carriage joins the long procession of carriages on the road to Hogwarts Castle.

Peeta’s knee knocks against mine as the carriage shakes and I still it with my hand. “Sorry,” he mumbles. I look out the window just as lightning flashes, and I watch the rain come down in buckets as we make our way up the winding path through the gates flanked with statues of winged boars.

I don’t remove my hand from Peeta’s knee until our carriage stops at the castle.

* * *

 Our robes get thoroughly soaked on the short walk from the carriage to the castle doors. Once we reach the entrance hall, we are forced to step carefully to avoid the puddles that have accumulated on the floor. The Great Hall is decorated as usual for the start-of-term feast with golden plates and goblets gleaming from the light of the hundreds of candles suspended in midair. Peeta and I take a seat at the Gryffindor table next to Madge and Delly. We take turns drying each other’s robes using hot air charms. By the time everyone has taken their seats at the tables, the four of us are dry and impatiently waiting for the feast to begin.

Lightning flashes across the ceiling of the Great Hall. It was enchanted to look like the sky outside, and rarely looks this stormy. The thunderclap sounds as the doors to the Great Hall open and Professor Trinket leads the long line of first years up to the top of the Hall. The poor first years look as though they swam across the lake rather than sailed. Professor Trinket places a three-legged stool in front of the first years and a familiar old wizard’s hat on top of it. The hat, the Sorting Hat, begins its song by opening a long tear wide like a mouth.

I remember at my Sorting, I listened to the Sorting Hat explain what kind of students each house wants: Gryffindor, the bravest; Ravenclaw, the cleverest; Hufflepuff, the hard workers; and Slytherin, those of great ambition. I hung on every word of its song that day, desperate to have the qualities that Gryffindors like my father possessed. But I haven’t listened to a single song it’s sung since, even though it changes its song every year.

When the hat is finally finished singing, the Sorting begins. Peeta shifts closer to me in his seat and I grab his hand under the table.

“Did you hear what the hat said at the end?” He whispers.

“What?” I say, forgetting to lower my voice. Peeta laughs.

“He said not to get too caught up in what separates us,” He says quietly. “He was speaking about the house system at the time, but he meant more broadly than that too.”

“I don’t remember him saying anything like that at our Sorting,” I say, matching his volume.

“He didn’t. Of course, I might not be remembering correctly, since I was too busy staring at you.” I blush and look back at the first years being sorted so I don’t have to look at his face. “He hasn’t said anything like that in years since then, though. I wonder why he added it this year.”

I catch Professor Trinket looking at us disapprovingly, so we remain quiet until the Sorting ends and Professor Trinket picks up the hat and stool and carries them away.

I turn to Professor Undersee in his Headmaster’s chair at the high table. He stands, raising his arms in welcome. “I have many things to say to you, but now is the time for feasting. Bon appétit!”

“Yes!” Peeta and I say in unison as food appears on the dishes before us and lamb stew is among the entrees. It was one of the things we ate at our first feast, and has since been our favorite dish at Hogwarts.

“What were you two whispering about during the Sorting?” Madge asks. We ladle hefty servings of lamb stew into our bowls and help ourselves to rice and bread rolls.

“The Sorting Hat’s song. Did you hear it?” I say. I take a bite of my stew and sigh gratefully at its familiar goodness.

“Yeah. It seems weird to bring it up this year,” she says. “I’ve always wondered about the kinds of things it hears up in my dad’s office.” That makes me think, too. What kinds of things would the hat have heard in the Headmaster’s office that would prompt him to mention the importance of unity?

“Maybe the Sorting Hat thinks the House rivalry got to be too much last year. Remember what happened after the Slytherin match?” Delly says.

Of course I remember. Peeta, the beater for the Gryffindor team, was cursed by Cato, the captain of the Slytherin team, just moments after the game. Peeta had stopped a bludger from hitting the Gryffindor Seeker right before she caught the snitch, so Cato blamed Peeta for their loss. Cato’s Furnunculus Curse was cast before anyone could stop him as they were too caught up in the joy of winning. But everyone saw the jet of light shooting from Cato’s wand and hitting Peeta in the back, causing enormous boils to erupt all over his skin. And then suddenly the entire Gryffindor team had their wands out, already firing curses on the Slytherin team in retaliation, and the Slytherin team fought back. At least half of each team ended up in the Hospital Wing.

After that, it wasn’t safe for members of either team to walk in the corridors. Those in Slytherin and Gryffindor took the events of the brawl personally and would curse anyone from the other House in revenge. And even those in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff took sides in the feud.

Everyone who took the Slytherins’ side made it their duty to make sure that Peeta was cursed whenever they spotted him in the corridor. So I made it my duty to protect him from harm. I blocked curses he couldn’t see, I helped him work on his disillusionment charm, and when all else failed, I escorted him to the hospital wing.

I clench my jaw. “Yeah, that makes sense. I’m not going to make friends with the Slytherins though.” I tear into my bread roll savagely.

“I think that was part of the point. We can’t hold grudges against a whole House,” Peeta says.

“How can _you_ defend them like that?” I say, my mouth still full of bread.

Peeta shrugs. “My rivalry is with Cato. No one else.”           

“But everyone in Slytherin attacked you. It wasn’t just Cato.”

“True. But they wouldn’t have done it if not for Cato. If we let ourselves be upset at every single Slytherin, and we choose to unite against them as Gryffindors, that’s not going to get us anywhere. Cato is the problem…” Peeta pauses, looking around the table, and I’m reminded again of what a good politician he would be, and what a good choice he was for Head Boy. A hush has fallen over the Gryffindor table, and though it’s still not quiet enough for people at other tables to hear, every Gryffindor can hear what Peeta says next. “It’s not that many Slytherins wouldn’t still attack us if not for Cato, but he is their biggest instigator. He is the driving force behind their cruelty. We can’t punish an entire house based on his actions. But we are not blameless in this fight. We have hurt them just as many times as they have hurt us. But it leads us nowhere. And if I hear that any of you has shot first in a fight with a Slytherin, I will make sure that you receive a detention for it.”

As Head Boy, Peeta has the power to give people detentions. He had that power when he was a prefect too, but it’s not one that he’s used before. In the corridors, when everyone was bustling about, it was often hard to tell who had cursed him, so it wouldn’t have been feasible for him to give his attackers detentions. Besides, Cato and Marvel, the main culprits, got themselves into enough trouble without Peeta having to add to it.

But it looked like that was going to change this year. There is mumbling around the table. Of course Peeta’s pronouncement wouldn’t be a popular one, but most people look as though they are in awe of him rather than angry at him. I’m a little in awe myself.

“Alright, Peeta. We promise we won’t start any fights with Slytherins,” Thom says. Thom is another seventh year, and the other beater on the quidditch team. People up and down the table echo Thom’s promise.

Peeta nods in acknowledgement and goes back to eating. Everyone follows his example. After a moment, he turns to Delly and says, “So, how was your summer?” Apparently he is done talking about the feud.

Undersee gets to his feet again when the plates have been cleared. “I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices. As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year.” I smirk at this. I have been sneaking out of the castle and into the Forbidden Forest and Hogsmeade since my first year. “It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year.”

“WHAT?!” Peeta and a few other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team shout. Is this punishment for the feud? Is this what the Sorting Hat was talking about?

“This is due to an event that will be starting in October,” Undersee continues, “and continuing throughout the school year. This year at Hogwarts we are to have the honor of hosting an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.” I look at Peeta in confusion, but he looks just as confused as I am.

“The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities—until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued. Our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another tournament. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger.

“The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons prize money.”

 _A thousand Galleons prize money_. Something like hope flickers in my chest and I turn to Peeta with a smile on my face.

“The heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic,” Undersee says, “have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age—that is to say, seventeen years or older—will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them.

“The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late. It is time for us to go to bed. I wish you all a good night.”

Undersee sits down again. There is a great commotion as all the students get to their feet. I stand in a daze, following Peeta numbly as he leads the first years to Gryffindor tower, where they will find their dormitories waiting for them.

I barely register Peeta informing the new students that the password is “balderdash,” causing the portrait of the Fat Lady to swing forward and reveal the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. I climb through the portrait hole and take a seat in one of the plush armchairs in front of the fireplace.

 _A thousand Galleons prize money_. Certainly it will be dangerous, but I trust Undersee when he says that no champions will be in mortal danger this year. And there’s no harm in submitting my name to the judge. I wonder how they will decide who to choose? There are only about forty students that will fulfill the age requirement, and not all of them will submit their names for consideration, so the odds are in my favor…

Peeta joins me by the fire, sitting down in one of the neighboring armchairs to mine. “What are you thinking?”

“My family needs that money, Peeta,” I say. I turn and look at him and he nods in understanding. “Are you going to submit your name?”

“Yeah. I think so.” He sighs. “That kind of money… I could open my bakery, Katniss.”

Peeta’s bakery. How had I not thought of that? If he won, he could move out of his family home, away from his bitter, pure-blood, squib mother and finally start his bakery like he’s always dreamed. It’s more than we could have hoped for, for him to be able to do that right after his last year at Hogwarts ends.

But…my family needs the money too. My mother still hasn’t paid off all of the loans that she took out after my father died, when she was too sick with grief to work. And though I help in any way that I can, we still barely make the minimum payments.

“Peeta…what if neither of us gets picked?” I whisper. I bite my lip and stare into the fire again.

“We’ll figure something out. We’ll be able to get real jobs after this year, so it won’t be too bad.” He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He gets up from his chair and kneels in front of me, taking my face in his hands. I lean into his touch. “It’s going to be ok, Katniss.”

“Is it?” I say.

“Yes. It is. I promise,” he says. I know he can’t possibly promise something like that, but his words send a rush of warmth through me, and I feel calmer, safer. I rest my forehead against his.

“Ok,” I say.

“Let’s get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow,” he says. I laugh.

He walks me to the door to the girls’ dormitories and I wrap my arms around him. “Goodnight,” I say against his chest.

“Goodnight,” he says.

I walk up the spiral staircase to my room and ready myself for bed, thankful as always that my trunk has been brought up to my room. But as I snuggle down beneath the warm covers of my four-poster, I quickly realize that sleep is unreachable.

I thank my time in the Forbidden Forest for my silent tread that keeps me from waking my sleeping roommates as I walk across the room, taking care to open and close our door slowly so it doesn’t creak as I leave. I go down the stairs, through the empty common room to the door to the boys’ dormitories, and then walk through it and up the stairs to Peeta’s room, ignoring the fact that I’m not supposed to be here.

He’s still awake. He smiles when he sees me and makes room for me on his bed. I curl up next to him, resting my head in its usual place on his chest, over his heart. He kisses the top of my head. We don’t say anything; we just hold each other close and try to sleep. We always sleep better when we’re together.

When I first arrived at Hogwarts, I was a girl fresh with grief over her father. I dreamed of his death nearly every night. These nightmares were what first led me into Peeta’s arms at night. It was only with him beside me in the darkness that I could sleep. Peeta’s roommates learned to expect my visits, and stopped waking at every creak of their door. News always travels fast within Gryffindor House, but it didn’t appear that anyone much cared that two eleven-year-olds were sharing a bed, though people still talked about it.

It wasn’t until our fourth year that news got around to Professor Trinket, our transfiguration professor who was always concerned with manners. She then alerted our Head of House, Professor Odair, who was forced to talk to us about it. It was a rather awkward discussion, especially since Professor Trinket was there and kept saying “It’s not proper!” But we were let off with a warning.

After that, we had to be a little more discreet. I had to make sure there wasn’t anyone in the common room at all before I headed up the staircase to the boys’ dormitories, and in our fifth year, I started using disillusionment charms as necessary. There were often nights when it was too risky to venture to Peeta’s room, so I was forced to sleep in my own bed. That always meant a night of restless sleep.

Tonight, as I drift off to sleep, I imagine a world where I can lay beside Peeta every night in a home of our own.

* * *

 Over the next several weeks, as September fades into October and Halloween draws near, it becomes clear that the Gryffindors took their promise to Peeta to heart and they don’t curse any Slytherins first in a fight. The Slytherins, along with the rest of the school, seem too distracted by theories on who the Hogwarts champion will be to pay much attention to the Gryffindors. Only a few small fights break out, where each is started by a Slytherin.

Peeta and I stress over our new course load as seventh years, and how we could not possibly handle our classes and the Triwizard Tournament if we are picked. Every professor makes it their duty to remind us of the importance of our N.E.W.T.s (Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests) at the end of the year, which doesn’t help.

Though Peeta and I do not share our plans with anyone besides Prim, we are among the favorites of Gryffindor House to be the Hogwarts champion. Though I am sure this is because there are only twelve Gryffindors that will be able to meet the age restriction, Peeta takes it as a good sign.

By the middle of October, the excitement over the Triwizard Tournament has died down. But then, a week before Halloween, a sign posted in the entrance hall declaring that the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will arrive on Friday October 30th causes a resurgence of excitement.

On the morning of their arrival, silk banners representing the four Hogwarts Houses hang on every wall in the Great Hall and the castle is cleaner than I’ve ever seen it, though I never saw anyone cleaning.

Classes end early so we have time to drop our things off before we have to greet our guests. Peeta, Delly, Madge, Prim, Rue, and I are gathered together on the front lawn with everyone else a few minutes before 6 o'clock, when they are meant to arrive.

"How do you think they'll do it?" Delly asks.

"Do what?" I say.

"Arrive. They're not just going to walk in," she says. I stare at her in shock.

"What do you mean? How would they arrive?" I say.

"I don't know, maybe on the backs of dragons or some kind of plane?" She says. I doubt that anyone in the wizarding world knows how a plane works, so I don't think it'll be that, but it’s not a bad guess since they're traveling such a great distance.

"Well I guess we'll see in a minute," I say. "Peeta, what do you think?"

"I think that whatever way they arrive, they'll want to try and impress us. Wizards can't help but show off whenever they're together." He looks up at the sky as though expecting the plane Delly mentioned to suddenly appear. I follow his gaze and squint. There does appear to be something odd in the sky; something too big to be a bird.

The waiting crowd takes a collective gasp as it becomes clear that the thing in the sky is actually a giant blue carriage drawn by winged horses. When it lands in front of us we can see that the carriage is easily the size of house, and the horses make elephants looks small. The front door—bearing Beauxbatons’ coat of arms of two crossed wands, each emitting three stars—swings open and out walks a tall woman elegantly dressed in black satin and pearls, followed by a dozen boys and girls in blue.

“That’s my cousin, Thresh,” Rue says. “He’s the tallest one of the bunch.” I follow her gaze and see the boy she described. He’s very handsome, and he has the same kindness in his eyes that Rue has.

“My dear Madame Lyme,” Professor Undersee greets the tall woman. “Welcome to Hogwarts.” They continue to exchange pleasantries, but I’ve stopped listening. How is Durmstrang going to arrive if Beauxbatons arrived in a giant, flying carriage?

Suddenly, the usually smooth surface of the lake is rolling, creating waves, and then a whirlpool.  In the center of the whirlpool, a mast of a ship is just visible. It shoots upward to reveal an entire, fully-rigged ship. I gasp. The ship is eerie looking, as though it rose from the bottom of the lake following a shipwreck. I suddenly do not want whatever is inside it at Hogwarts.

When the ship reaches the shore, the people from Durmstrang disembark, with another dozen boys and girls, this time in furs, following a thin, white-haired man. Undersee greets the man as Professor Snow. Inexplicably, I feel the chill of his name run through me.

The Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang students walk up to the castle together, with the headmasters following behind. When we reach the Great Hall, and the Hogwarts students are seated according to their Houses, there is some confusion as to where our newcomers will sit. After a moment, however, the students from Beauxbatons join the Ravenclaws at their table, and the students from Durmstrang join the Slytherins. The headmasters sit at the top table with Undersee and the rest of the professors. When everyone is seated, Undersee stands.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and--most particularly--guests," he says, beaming at our guests. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable. The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

The food appears on our plates before us and the welcoming feast begins. The food today is different than I've ever seen at Hogwarts, with many dishes that I don't recognize. I suppose it's to make our guests feel more at home. Madge whispers to me that I should try the bouillabaisse, a large dish of some sort of shellfish stew that she informs me is French, confirming my suspicion.

Halfway through the feast, two more guests arrive and take their seats at the high table. I don’t recognize them, but I assume they must be from the Ministry.

Once the golden plates have been emptied of food, Undersee stands again. Silence fills the hall in anticipation. "The moment has come. The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Plutarch Heavensbee, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation"—people applaud politely at this—"and Mr. Seneca Crane, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports." There’s more polite applause at this, which he acknowledges with a wave of his hand.

"Mr. Crane and Mr. Heavensbee," Undersee continues, "will be joining myself, Professor Snow, and Madame Lyme on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts." He then turns to the young man in the corner of the hall who I had previously not noticed. "The casket, if you please, Mr. Darius." I wonder whether Professor Snow and Madame Lyme are the sort to show favoritism of their champions. I know Undersee won’t, so the Hogwarts champion might be at a disadvantage.

Mr. Darius, the caretaker, approaches Undersee, carrying a large wooden chest encrusted with jewels. "There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year," Undersee says as Darius places the chest carefully on the table before him, "and they will test the champions in many different ways...As you know, three champions compete in the tournament, one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

Undersee takes out his wand and taps it thrice upon the casket, causing its lid to creak slowly open. Undersee reaches inside and pulls out a large, wooden cup, unremarkable but for the dancing blue-white flames that fill it. I gasp quietly. So that’s what will decide who the champions are, not a person but a magical object. I can’t help but feel relieved.

Undersee closes the casket and places the goblet carefully on top of it. “Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet,” he says. “Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

“To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation, I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.

“Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not one to be entered into lightly. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all.”

Undersee sits back down and there is a great commotion as everyone gets to their feet at once. I tell Peeta that I want to talk to Prim before heading back to Gryffindor tower. He says he’ll see me later and leaves the Great Hall with Delly and Madge.

When I reach the Ravenclaw table, Rue and Thresh are hugging each other and saying good night. “They spend most of their summers together,” Prim says.  
“Oh?” I say. I guess I had been staring at them. I couldn’t recall Rue ever being so affectionate with anyone other than Prim. Thresh gives her a light kiss on the top of her head and tells her he has to head back to the ship, but he’ll see her at breakfast tomorrow.

“Yeah, they’re more like siblings than cousins,” she says with a smile. We watch Thresh and Rue part ways, and then she turns to me. Her brow creases. “When are you going to…?”

“Later. When no one’s around. I just—can’t—in front of other people. I don’t want them looking at me,” I say. She nods in understanding, and puts her hand on my shoulder reassuringly. It’s a bit of a reach for her, but it’s a comfort all the same.

“Don’t worry, ok? Even if you don’t get picked…”

“Stop. I don’t want to talk about it. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” I say. She looks at me sadly and nods. I hug her fiercely, kiss the top of her head, and leave; but only after wishing her sweet dreams.

* * *

 I lie awake that night in Peeta’s arms. Is he asleep? I don’t know. His breathing isn’t the slower, louder breathing that he does when he’s asleep, but I don’t want to disturb him.

When the sky starts to lighten outside the window, I wake Peeta. As silently as we can, we grab pieces of parchment and quills and write our names on them, nearly forgetting that we have to write that we go to Hogwarts as well. We stuff the now-precious pieces of parchment in the pockets of our robes, slip on sneakers, and head down to the Entrance Hall.

The Goblet of fire is placed in the center of the thankfully empty Entrance Hall, on the stool that normally bears the Sorting Hat. A thin golden line has been traced on the floor, forming a circle ten feet around it in every direction. Professor Undersee’s Age Line. Peeta and I step across it confidently, and though I’ve been seventeen for more than five months now, I’m still slightly surprised that nothing happens.

I retrieve my piece of parchment from my pocket and stare at the Goblet of Fire for a long moment. Peeta grabs my hand. “Together?” he says.

“Together,” I say. And then, as one, we put our names into the Goblet of Fire. The fire turns from bluish-white to red and emits sparks.

I rest my head on Peeta’s shoulder, suddenly exhausted. “Let’s go back to bed,” I say. And we do.

* * *

 That morning at breakfast, the decorations in the Great Hall have changed. A cloud of live bats is fluttering around the enchanted ceiling, and hundreds of carved pumpkins decorate every corner in celebration of Halloween.

Cato makes a big show of putting his name into the Goblet of Fire, and I barely have enough energy to roll my eyes, but I manage.

We head down to the lake with Prim and Rue after breakfast, and we officially meet Thresh, who is just as kind as I first suspected.

When it’s time for lunch, Peeta and I grab sandwiches and whatever else we can carry and head up to the top of the Astronomy Tower, the highest tower in the castle. We make a picnic of it. And it is with great reluctance that we head back down to the Great Hall at sunset.

I notice that the Goblet of Fire now stands in front of Undersee’s chair at the staff table as I take my seat beside Peeta at the Gryffindor table. I can’t remember being less excited than I am now about the food at a Hogwarts feast. It seems somehow both longer and shorter than previous feasts, and before I know it, everyone is done eating.

As the golden plates clear, the students’ excited chatter somehow gets louder, but all is silent again when Undersee gets to his feet.

 “When the champions’ names are called,” says Undersee, “I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber”—he indicates the door behind the staff table—“where they will be receiving their first instructions.” He takes out his wand and extinguishes all of the candles in one swoop, save the ones inside the pumpkins. I grab Peeta’s hand beneath the table.

The Goblet of Fire’s flames turn red again and it emits sparks just like it did this morning, but this time it also shoots out a piece of parchment. Undersee catches the parchment and reads it by the light of the fire. “The champion for Durmstrang,” he reads, “will be Clove Fuhrman.”

A dark-haired girl I don’t recognize gets up from the Slytherin table, walks through the hall and along the staff table, then disappears into the next chamber. The applause doesn’t stop until the door is shut.

Everyone is focused on the Goblet of Fire as it turns red once more and shoots out a second piece of parchment. “The champion for Beauxbatons,” says Undersee, “is Thresh Stenberg!”

I applaud enthusiastically along with everyone else. I’m so glad Thresh is the Beauxbatons champion. He gets up from the Ravenclaw table, briefly tousling Rue’s hair as he walks past her and up the hall, then along the staff table, and through the door to the next chamber.

I hold Peeta’s hand in a death grip as we wait to hear the name of the Hogwarts champion. I somehow manage to squeeze his hand harder when the Goblet of Fire turns red, and harder still when the final piece of parchment shoots out of it. Undersee grabs the parchment and I wonder distantly how Peeta isn’t complaining about my tight hold on his hand.

 “The Hogwarts champion,” Undersee calls, “is Katniss Everdeen!”

 

 


End file.
